The Kestrel Chronicles
by GoingFTL
Summary: The Federation is in shambles, the Rebels are closing in, and pirates, slavers and raiders roam free in the galaxy. What can a single Kestrel class cruiser (and its crew) do? Rated T for infrequent later language and close combat detail, just in case! Don't worry if you can't find the next installment, there is a minimum of a week and a maximum of a month to upload. Check in often!
1. Prologue-Outpost

"Look o'er there, commodore! What's that?"

"Unregulated jumps...Is that...FIRE UP THE ASB! THE REBELS ARE HERE!"

"HOLY SHI-"

A blast from one of the enormous Rebel gunships, followed by several small lasers from auto-assault crafts trailing behind, sent the small outpost station reeling, its center of gravity disrupted. The commodore's cabin was reduced to smithereens, desiccated scrap raining down on the station. Soon after that, the outpost retaliated with the station-mounted Anti-Ship Battery, rending through several auto-ships and clipping a gunship on the wing, forcing it to cease fire. Meanwhile, several sleek Federation fighters launched from the hangar began to rain missiles and lasers on the emerging enemy fleet, beating back the ever-advancing horde. The Rebels, however, gradually overwhelmed the resistance using their numbers, the orange and turquoise ships bringing down one after another of the grey and orange fighters. Those that remained turned tail and fled; some back to the outpost, some simply flew away into the infinite depths of space. They were closely pursued by the advancing swarm of auto-scouts emerging from the many more gunships that had jumped in. More spacecrafts, this time tiny escape cruisers, were launching thick and fast from the outpost's rear ports, carrying important personnel away from the fray, disappearing into the distance. Just in time too; the empty outpost finally buckled under the constant Rebel fire, explosions rocking the station as it collapsed in on itself.

One final ship pulls itself, barely functional yet still fighting, from the burning hangar, smoke and flames trailing from its hull as it painstakingly tears itself from the wreckage of the outpost, leaving deep scratches in the hull paint. The tiny ship manages to clumsily bring out its Artemis missile launcher and Burstfire Mk.2 to fire a few missiles and a laser salvo into a Rebel auto before it sent out a pursuit broadcast. The mass of auto-ships turn sharply and reroute to pursue the escaping ship, lasers and missiles glancing over the shields and hull as it boosts into a jump, leaving the black autos running fruitless scans in its wake.

"We lost it, sir."

"No matter. What's its ID?"

"The Federation Kestrel Number 1293, sir..."

Several lower-class Rebel navigators and marines stifled chuckles and giggles. Really? Was that museum artefact all the Federation had left?

"Huh... Call the fleet navigators in to check for jump signatures. Push the auto front into deeper space, and send out a wideband broadcast to all our stations. The Flagship commander wants their heads on a silver plate, no doubt. Ready the FTL drive on all ships."

"Yes, sir! LISTEN UP! ALL SHIP NAVIGATORS, GO IN AND CHECK FOR JUMP SIGNATURES! SEND THE AUTOS INTO DEEPER SPACE..."

The three distressed and dishevelled humans on the battered Kestrel cruiser let their locked muscles relax, and began to discuss the assault in the living quarters. The roughed-up Engines operator spoke up first, ruffling his raven hair to clean it of any cinders or ash. His chocolate eyes were still wide with residue panic from the outpost siege.

"Holy crap, that was close...Where are we now?"

The blonde pilot, who moonlighted as a navigator, directed his piercing azure pupils to the navi-com, scanning the installed starmaps for a heading. He lifted his head as he finally found where they had ended up.

"Civilian sector A-18, just eight sectors away from base..."

Upon hearing this, the weapons operator, who was the sole woman on the cruiser, swivelled her head around to face everyone else, making her navy blue bun of hair bob up and down. Her green eyes were dull with exhaustion.

"I can't believe it...they knew the whole time?"

"The Rebels were planning this all along, just waiting until today..."

"They must have known about that sensitive info."

Everyone stopped talking at once. Yes, sensitive indeed...their outpost had held the key to the Federation's victory up until its recent destruction; an analysis of the Rebel Flagship, the collective result of countless dedicated loyalists and spies working, bleeding and dying for the Federation. Blood money, you could call it. All information relays had been intercepted save for the single Engi ship, the Torus, that had limped within broadcasting range of this particular outpost, sent out an encrypted message with its final energy reserves, and silently collapsed due to excessive hull damage.

According to the records sent, the Flagship was the ultimate spacecraft, designed and built by the Rebels, to carry and transport the most elite commanders of their fleet. It was described to be a gargantuan, station-sized monstrosity, toting superweapons of mass destruction and a dangerously competent crew; the elite commanders of the entire Rebel fleet. Not only that, but the signal emitter that was used to control the auto-ships was also on-board; if that was destroyed, the Rebel fleet would lose up to sixty percent of its firepower, throwing the entire fleet into disarray. Their cruiser, along with the many other decommissioned cruisers vacant of any duty on that single outpost, had been assigned the task of delivering this intelligence to the Federation home base. Now they were the only ones left...

Fex Garret, Avery Mortlake and Tiera Fontaine; the ragtag crew of one of the three-person squads selected to deliver this valuable intel back to home base. The problem was, although they had temporarily averted destruction, the three of them and their tiny, refitted-at-the-last-second Kestrel were up against the enormous, technologically superior Rebel fleet, or, as they called themselves, the Intergalactic Liberation Front.

"This is going to be a suicide mission." Avery quietly stated as he continued to peruse the various starmaps, studying the sectors carefully.

"There is a roughly...a very high chance of us perishing in a multitude of terribly, horribly painful ways. Being vented. Suffocated. Incinerated. Flash frozen. Irradiated. Eaten. Exploded. Imploded. Even space dementia. The list goes on." He was almost emotionless as he stated their possible deaths. His blank expression was nigh unreadable.

"If we're dying, the least we could do is to take a few of them Rebels to Hell with us! It's on!" Fex was getting increasingly fired up, raising his voice, throwing air-punches and swivelling around in his ancient swivel-chair, which squeaked from the strain of taking weight after decades of decommission.

"I reckon we're procrastinating. We should get to work now if we want to get anywhere..." Tiera left her chair and opened the bulkhead to the weapons room.

"Alright Fex, you heard the lady. Shoo." Avery lazily spun around in his chair and shooed Fex out of the room.


	2. Unexpected Start

"Ready to go yet? The drive is charged, coordinates are set at the next beacon and engines are a go! Weapons and shields, report status!"

"Weapons primed, ready when you are."

"Shields good to go, ready when you are!"

Avery briskly nodded and engaged the FTL drive. The orange and blue flames surging from the exhaust boosters intensified until the engines were nothing but blinding white flares behind the Kestrel as the ship boosted into FTL travel with a satisfying roar. Avery closed his eyes and sat back, smiling, feeling the ship rumble ever so gently as it jumped, engulfing the cruiser from engine to cockpit in a golden glow. Within seconds all that was left of the Kestrel was a small wave of spatial distortion that would slowly expand until there was no trace of the ship ever being there in the first place.

As soon as the small ship exited from the jump beacon, they were greeted with a welcoming sight; an enormous, bustling trade station with countless ports letting through freighters, cargo cruisers and merchant ships of all shapes and sizes. The station itself was a dazzling sight of countless flashing, pulsing, shining lights and signs advertising everything from flamboyant clothing and exotic food to ridiculously overpriced cruiser repairs and all kinds of ship weaponry. The Kestrel's broadcast receiver was spam-flooded with boisterous proclamations of 'cheapest insulated trench coats', 'spiritually uplifting religious lectures', and even some shadier broadcasts advertising the most 'hospitable' courtesans on this side of the Tenere system. Unable to review everything at once, Avery called for a meeting in the cockpit, asking for everyone's opinion of the station.

"Fex, you first. What do you think of this station? Should we dock?"

"Well...I don't see why not. After all, they're selling-"

"No lavish food. We can't waste credits or scrap buying some fancy dinner right now. Just rations and basics."

"Avery..."

"Yes, Tiera?"

"Look at this one..."

Tiera flicked through several broadcast messages, bringing up a wideband broadcast titled simply 'Federation Bounty'. She pressed the play button and the image of an unmistakable Rebel announcer projected from the receiver.

"Hello, citizens of the Cadaver Trading Hub. This is just a short broadcast reminding all visitors and shopkeepers to report any suspicious or conspicuous looking customers to the nearest stationed officer. They may be under the command of the Federation and must be captured or neutralised as soon as possible, thank you for listening. Look out in particular for this trio of publicly undesirable offenders, a bounty has been placed on their lives..." Pictures and details of the Kestrel's crew began to scroll from the projection, accompanied by calming classical music. Tiera closed the message.

"They've already got 'a bounty on our lives'. We're not going in there."

Fex was slightly wordless, taking in the situation, and Avery raised his left brow, intrigued.

"On the contrary, I was thinking that we should go in and procure ourselves some conforming attire and rations to last us until the next trading hub..."

"English please?"

"We need clothes that we can wear without raising suspicion for later and food that lasts us until we find another store."

Fex snapped out of his stupor and agreed to Avery's plan.

"We're going to be shopping for ammo soon if they've set a 'Dead or Alive' thing on our heads, and for that we'll have to find another trade hub. Without clothes that fit in, we're sitting ducks. Tiera, we should at least look at who's selling what in there."

Silence floated over the conversation until Tiera threw up her hands and gave up.

"Whatever, if you guys want us to die, let's go."

Stealthily, Avery backed the ship into a hidden port and signalled for everyone to vacate the ship. Although they looked very peculiar wearing several long grey leather cloaks and sweating buckets, it was a better option than waltzing out into the trading hub with noting but their Federation jumpsuits and getting sprung immediately. A few surprised and puzzled stares were directed at the trio of cloaked marines strode through the grocery market section trying to act casually, picking up random items and putting them in their trolleys. Children clung close to their parents as they walked past and Rebel officers gave them disapproving glares as they surveyed them from their guard stands. Despite all this, nobody lifted a finger against the three disguised soldiers. Their shopping trip progressed without any problems apart from the obvious strain in their shoulders, largely due to weight of the heavy plastic bags they had to lug around.

Finally, after an afternoon of trudging around the station, the marines headed back to the Kestrel. Once inside the ship, the crew dumped their bags of shopping in the cargo hold, dragged themselves to the living quarters and slumped onto their bunks, exhausted. For what seemed like hours, the three lay there, motionless. Fex broke the silence eventually.

"Wow. Who would guess that the first thing we'd do in our mission to save the universe was to go shopping?"

"Indeed. As they all say, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

"I guess all the fighting and surviving business will have to come a bit later then!"

"I have a bad feeling about this. Somehow I feel like we're being watched."

"Bah, Av, you're just being paranoid again."

"Maybe I am..."

The two began a lengthy conversation over how they planned to save the Federation. Tiera, however, remained silent. She was still thinking about something that had happened earlier, in the trading hub.

 _Two Hours Ago._

 _Wandering around the sweets section, Tiera spotted a child and his snoozing father sitting near the doorway of a candy store, the former dressed in only in tattered shorts and draped a coat way too large for him, while the latter was clad in ragged orange and grey clothes that may have once been a high quality suit or even a ceremonial tailcoat. Evidently these were ex-Federation loyalists who had been stripped of all they had when the Rebels had swept through like a plague. All they had now was the rags on their backs. The child, looking no older than seven, was peering through the glass of the store window, drooling slightly as he feasted his eyes on the various confections on the other side of the thick glass pane. Tiera looked back at the rest of the group. They were busy picking out five and ten-credit bits at a clothing vendor as the attending shopkeeper impatiently tapped his posh shoes on the lacquered floorboards. Good._

 _While nobody was watching, Tiera fished a fifty-credit bit out of her pocket and pretended to aimlessly stroll past the two loyalists, deliberately dropping the credit bit next to the salivating boy. The faint clink of the tiny metal chip hitting the ground made the little boy look away from the window and towards the floor, searching for the source of the sound. His face lit up as he reached for the credit bit and pocketed it with a huge grin, running back to his father and shaking him awake, no doubt to show him what he had found. Tiera smiled as she turned away. Now they could eat for at least another three days. As she walked back to her two crewmates, who were busy hefting the new load of ever-increasing bags, she felt a tug at her cloak. She immediately spun around instinctively and bumped against something orange and firm that made her cloak's hood slip slightly, exposing some of her blue fringe. Standing imposingly before her was a burly Rebel officer, sternly looking down at Tiera. He was holding something small in his left hand. Tiera hurriedly tugged her hood back in place._

 _"Miss, I think you dropped this. Those filthy Federation beggars got their hands on it."_

 _He pressed the fifty-credit bit into her hand with a palm as big as a small saucer, all the while staring her right in the eye as if daring her to say something._

 _"I...uh...thank you...sir..."_

 _"No problem, milady. If the decadents bother you again, just call one of our officers stationed around the hub and we'll be on them as quick as stench on a Slug. Have a good day."_

 _He then walked away without a word, although Tiera could have sworn that she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head. More than once._

Now.

Had the officer seen her hair? Hopefully, if he had he'd dismissed her as somebody else...but who in their right minds would have dyed their hair that shade of blue?

As soon as she finished that thought, a wailing siren pierced the calm atmosphere of the little post-shopping congregation.

"All officers to landing bay #1B2983! Publicly undesirable offenders identified, prepare for standard neutralisation protocol! GO, GO, GO! Auto-ship unit has been deployed, all shops now in lockdown! All shoppers proceed to nearest lockdown area and take shelter!"

They were coming.


	3. Time to Fight

**AUTHOR'S UPDATE: Hi readers! Sorry this chapter was so late...had work to do! It's still within the one-month limit, though! Keep checking in!**

 **GoingFTL...out!**

Without so much as a quick nod and hand gesture, the entire crew of the Kestrel was back in action and scrambling for their stations; as soon as the piloting was manned the Kestrel burst from the docking platform, leaving the officers who had converged coughing in the smoke, with nothing to do but curse the Federation and fire their weapons uselessly at the ship that they knew was quickly moving out of range. As the orange and turquoise crowd turned back, muttering profanities under their breaths and clenching their fists, a black blur with flashing red streaks whizzed above their heads. An auto-scout had been activated and was now locked onto the Kestrel's engine's heat signature; it would not rest until it had destroyed its target or had been destroyed itself. The Rebel officers' anger and frustration turned to bloodlust-fuelled joy as they cheered the auto on, hoping that the cold, dark machine, armed with a double laser and a hefty Hermes missile launcher, would end the three marines' escapade, preferably in a prolonged, painful method with extreme prejudice. This would be the first battle the Kestrel's crew must face in the long line of conflicts to come.

"Fex! I'm picking up something behind us! Go check what it is!"

"No need, Av! It's an auto-scout and it's right next to my window!"

"Alright, Tiera, power up everything, we're in for a fight."

"On it!"

The Kestrel wheeled around to face the auto, both sides charging their weapons, ready to let loose. A brief period of silence ensued as the traditional Mexican standoff while the two combatants' weapons warmed up began. For ten brief seconds the two ships circled each other, planning where on their opponent to unleash their firepower on. Then, the auto's rocket launcher blinked green. A huge Hermes rocket burst free from the scout trailing a spectacular stream of flames, passing the Kestrel's shields with no effort, and hitting the engine room with a resonating boom. The ship's hull buckled and bent violently, but didn't give in, although the boosters sputtered and faded as the engine core was breached, the precious cruiser fuel leaking out of the fissure caused by the shock.

"They've killed our engines! Fex!"

"Right away!"

Leaping out of his chair, Fex grabbed a toolbox and some hull plates and in one fluid motion punched the 'open' button on the fuel storage bulkhead. He dashed through the doorway, tools rattling in their box, and rushed to the fuel compartment. Meanwhile, outside the Kestrel, the auto-scout dipped and dodged the purple bolts of energy flying in its direction, avoiding all but one that struck its weapons system. The auto paused for a precious few seconds, processing whether to allocate power to its laser or missiles. In that fatal absence of awareness, an Artemis missile scored a lucky shot in the same system, shutting off the weapons entirely and leaving the auto defenceless. Tiera smiled and shut off the Artemis, leaving the Burstfire Mk.2. to do its work.

As the AI shut down and the machine crumpled, Fex stumbled into the weapons room, covered in acrid-smelling cruiser fuel and slightly singed.

"Did I miss anything?

"No, Fex, except for the amazing fireworks display that just happened. Hit the Medbay, you smell terrible."

After scrapping the remains of the auto, the Kestrel promptly jumped away, eager to avoid the Rebel reinforcements that would most certainly be arriving soon at the Cadaver hub. After exiting the jump, the crew found themselves staring at the hind-side of a Rebel scout, patrolling the nearby Rebel controlled space stations and no doubt heavy-handedly 'keeping the peace'. The transmissions board clicks online as the ship turns around, a jumble of vicious threat messages erupting from the speakers. The scout's weapons light up and the ship pulls away, readying for combat.

"We've got another one! Aim for the shields, Tiera!"

"Already...? Right! Fex! Anything we need to know?"

"Oh...Av, we've got jump signals, for sure! They're trying to get away!"

"Well, are we gonna let them?!"

With that, the crew fell silent as they concentrated on working the ship; the scout sent a spiralling pair of heat-homing Swarm warheads flying right at the engines, but somehow Avery managed to narrowly steer clear of the murderous barrage, the closest warhead grazing the hull as it flew away and detonated miles off of its target. The Kestrel retaliated with several Burstfire shots, breaching the shields and clipping the weapons. The Swarm warhead launcher retracted into its bay, deprived of power, while the double laser on the right wing continued to charge. An Artemis missile quickly put a stop to that, puncturing the weapons bay hull and momentarily staggering the scout. Fex dashed quickly into the sensor compartment and checked on the enemy's FTL charge; not good...

"AV! AV! THEY'RE JUMPING-!"

"What? Fex, are you living 15 seconds in the past? Look out the window!"

The Rebel scout had already succumbed to another laser blast, crumpling as spherical explosions collapsed the hull, and eventually breaching the engine core. The entire thing was enveloped in a ball of flame that quickly dissipated, emancipating everything organic onboard and leaving nothing but a cloud of scrap floating around, waiting for harvesting...

Fex facepalmed himself silently and made for the cockpit, ready to help with scrapping.

"...fuel cell, dry. Core fragment, don't touch that one...I think we're done here."

"Is that missile launcher still intact? I'd like one of those."

"Nah...let's jump, Av."

"So be it. Back to stations, you two."

"'Aye', captain!"

"Uh...'Aye'."

Another golden glow encased the ship as it rumbled into jump speed, vanishing to another beacon, far off in the distance.

Not ten seconds after their jump, another ship jumped in...one of the few state-of-the-art 'Vulture'-build fighter wrenched from the Federation's grip, a pride and joy of the Rebel fleet.

"Come on, come on, we don't got all our lives to stop them! Work those sensors, dammit boy!"

Aboard the ship, a burly, uniformed captain was brusquely shouting at his sensor manner, hurrying him on as the young Rebel private fumbled with the control board, trying to scan over and over for jump signals but having a hard time reading all the flashing lights and results.

"But sir, there obviously isn't-"

"What is this then?!"

The captain angrily pointed at a small blue window, with some sort of radar imprinted on it; JUMP POSITIVE.

The sensor manner fell silent, hanging his head shamefully as he closed the rest of the results and sullenly relayed his findings to the engine room, expecting a severe punishment to follow after the mission was accomplished...The captain himself rushed out of the room with an irritated growl, making a beeline for the cockpit to pursue his quarry. He lowered himself into the velvet padded captain's chair and laid back, slowly sinking into the silky material as he waited for the engine room to calibrate the jump speed. Tipping his hat over his eyes, he felt the darkness envelope him and he whispered, again and again, a slow, determined oath to the dark depths of space, until it almost seemed like a mad, demented mantra.

"I won't let them...ruin...this...They...will...die...They...will...die...They...will...die..."


	4. Silent Station-Part 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, first off, a formality. I know I've been forgetting this for a long time now, so I've gotta say this...**

 **Right...Although the** **characters** **created in this fanfiction are completely my imagination at work, the game they are based off/set in is** **completely the property of Subset Games** **and none of it is mine. Kudos to you lot!**

 **AND!**

 **I may or may not wander off-canon in this fanfic series, so those who don't enjoy stories that don't adhere to its base game's principles...GO SUCK A BAG OF POTATOES WHY ARE U READING DIS ANYWEY**

 **(So sorry...)**

 **:-/**

As the Kestrel decelerated from FTL speed, Avery immediately scanned the surrounding area and, making sure there were no signs of Rebels, then sent an encrypted message to the nearby beacon station, a small scientific researchers' outpost. After waiting for over fifteen whole minutes, he noticed something off about the station.

"No signals...at all? No register either..."

The station and its orbiting beacon were absolutely silent. Nothing. Not even wideband Rebel propaganda broadcasts, and those were almost everywhere. Strange, and not to mention very ominous. Alarm bells started going off in Avery's brain. Had something...unfortunate...happened? Because if so, it may not be too safe to hang around any longer. Avery switched on the onboard comms.

"Hey...I'm getting zero signals and no reg number. What do you two, uh...think about this?"

Fex answered first, confident as ever;

"Just 'cos nobody's picking up doesn't mean they're not there. We should dock and see if they really are in. I mean, if they don't want us to dock, they'll show up, and if we dock without trouble, we'll go see 'em off."

Tiera opened her mouth...then closed it, with a concerned look spreading over her face. She turned from the comms and leaned back, silently pondering.

"Hey, Tiera! Why so glum? Av's waiting for an answer, y'know."

"Just...what you said."

"Okay. Av! Bring us in!"

"I should make a final broadcast...just formalities."

"Go ahead, nothin' stopping you!"

Avery nodded and shut off the comms,, reluctantly bringing the ship ever so slightly closer to the silent station.

"Um...Hello? Ahem...Unidentified station? This is our final broadcast, please respond and identify yourselves with either name or registration serial code within the next ten minutes, or we will be forced to dock without consent. We are members of the Federation Marines, we mean you no harm and this is purely out of concern for those of you aboard this station! "

And then he waited. And waited. And waited. At eight minutes, the comms board flickered back on, Fex's face appearing once more on the screen.

"Hey, Av! Tiera here just told me she's getting chills. I'd agreed, this place is unsettling."

"I am getting 'chills', yes. This place isn't just unsettling, it's...creepy. Having no background chatter to keep you alert feels wrong."

"Maybe we should hurry this thing up; I'm getting even more shivers."

"Oh. Okay. Understood."

Avery sighed and pulled the ship into the station's gravity dock. Being an security-centred model for a scientific station, the chunky metal contraption clinked and clanked as it locked the Kestrel in, leaving it completely at the mercy of the station's owners. As the airlock system hissed shut, the crew prepared themselves for a boarding operation. But nothing could have prepped them for what they encountered as they stepped out into the station's interior.

As the Kestrel's door slid open, the crew's eardrums were assaulted by a frenzied mash of banging, scrabbling, and screaming on the other side of the dock doors. Faint cries of help could just be heard over the crazed yelling and screeching noises just beyond the hefty steel barrier.

"AGH! Help...me...! Someone! Something! ANYONE! HELP MEEEEEE!"

Fex and Tiera turned to Avery, looks of pure horror and disbelief on their faces. Only Avery remained deadpan, but gleaming beads of sweat were beginning to inch their way down his brow. He swallowed, unholstered his plasma handgun and motioned for the crew to move in.

After swiftly getting into battle stance next to the door, Fex hit the open switch and took aim immediately, along with his crewmates. But before anyone could fire a shot a green figure clad in a bloodied lab coat rushed through the doorway and knocked Fex over, his pistol misfiring into the air.

"OHTHANKTHEGREATEYEHELPMEQUICKTHEY'REHERE!"

"Whoa, calm down, miss, what-"

Before he could finish, another lab coat-wearing figure leapt through the doorway, barrelling straight into Fex and the unknown scientist at such a speed that the three slammed right into the side of the Kestrel. Tiera was the first to get a good look at the bloodstained offender; a brown haired scientist wearing a pair of cracked, cloudy glasses was attempting to pick himself up after ramming Fex and the other scientist, a female Zoltan, into the Kestrel's starboard side. Hunched and twitching, the seemingly insane former scientist regained his stance and...howled...

It was a chilling, spine-tinglingly primal noise, a guttural uproar magnified by the enclosed dock's chamber. But the worst was yet to come...down the hallway leading into the station, more howls began to ring out; they weren't echoes, they were responses. Seeing this, Avery emptied a capsule of burning plasma right into the howling brown-haired scientist's face without a second thought.

"There's more of them. Get ready."

Tiera's grip weakened for a split second as she saw the psychotic scientist go down, a blob of flesh-melting plasma embedded in his face, but she quickly pulled herself together, reciting the fifth rule of Federation Marine engagement as she moved to point her crosshairs down the hallway.

"Minimise casualties but show no emotion when forced to terminate..."

The two marines had barely any time to react as a horde of spitting, howling scientists came bounding down the hall. Even more disturbingly, one scientist-turned-madwoman was holding a severed hand in her mouth, blood trailing freely along the corridor. With no time to think, Tiera and Avery opened fire blindly, striking down most of the mad scientists as they slowly backed into the Kestrel, Fex comforting the distressed Zoltan.

"Come on, lady, tell me what's goin' on!"

"I...my friends...they all went crazy, just like that...they killed everyone..."

"Ah, that's rough...quick, get on the ship!"

Hurrying now, the Kestrel's crew picked up the pace, escorting what seemed to be the sole survivor left on the station. The endless wave of insane scientists continued to pour in without relent, each siege yielding increasingly disgusting attackers; some had parts of them ripped off, some were crawling, having lost their legs, and some were already half decomposed and had trouble moving. Just wave after wave of these things, flooding the corridor, some even trampling their former partners in their desperation for freedom...or fresh meat. Right, left and center...more and more eviscerated, burning bodies began to pile up along the hallway, emitting an acrid smell, a mixture between badly burnt meat and smoking nylon-plastic weave. In the heat of the battle, Tiera could have sworn that she had seen an identical copy of a scientist she had shot a while ago come back, hissing and spitting in the exact same way.

Then.

 _ **KLOMP. KLOMP. KLOMP.**_

 _ **KLOMP. KLOMP. KLOMP.**_

Suddenly everything, even the marauding madmen, stopped moving. Something making heavy dragging, stomping noises and rattling breath was approaching. Were approaching; there was more than one...

Some of the gathered scientists began to cower and tremble. Some actually started to slink away, whimpering as they retreated into the shadows. Avery immediately analysed the situation and quickly summarised to nobody in particular;

"They're showing signs of submission. There's something else here, and they're scared of it. It's large, has mobility issues and may or may not have respiratory conditions."

"Thanks for the summary, but we really don't need it now."

"You two, focus on the cover fire, not the banter! Missus here's really under the weather; she's flashin' e'ry shade of green there is, except the one she's meant to be."

Fex wasn't lying; the Zoltan had started to flicker all different shades of green, the Zoltan equivalent of hyperventilation. She could only quietly whisper a panicked, stuttering gibberish as they anticipated the arrival of the monstrosities approaching.

 ** _KKKKRRRRRAAAAASSSSSSHHHH_**

"WHAT IN THE FU-"


	5. Silent Station-Part 2

**OH JEEZGODDAMMIT I'M SORRY! I've really neglected this story. I've actually been working on another project lately, and the holidays were also a bit of a hurdle to jump, so to say. In short, I'm not dead, this fic is not dead, it's all good. But just for this chapter, there will be a slight drop in quality and quantity. SO sorry!**

 **-GoingFTL**

"WHAT IN THE FU-"

Fex's curse was cut short as Avery tackled him and the Zoltan into the ship. A quartet of hulking, once-human abominations were crashing down the hallway, larger and more deformed than any of their smaller, more humanoid counterparts. Grunting and howling incoherently, the bear-sized mutants scratched and bit at each other while trying to navigate along the narrow hall, adding to the chaos and blood already occurring. Tiera emptied another few canisters of plasma, hitting two of them; one in the left arm and one square in the chest. The first simply shrugged it off and kept charging, while the other one halted and contemplated the hole in its chest briefly. And then it kept charging. Of course, Tiera bailed out.

Avery mashed the 'close airlocks' command as soon as he made it to the cockpit and prepared to detach forcefully from the station, ignoring the collision warnings and intruder alerts flashing in his face.

"Oh...you lump of useless tin, reverse! Wait...intruders?"

He stooped reversing and directed his eyes to the warning console. Five pulsating red dots were moving rapidly around the airlock, the larger four of them following one smaller dot, the Zoltan who hadn't been cleared as a crew member yet.

So, they got in.

"Agh-! Get it off!"

"Shoot the face, Fex, get the face!"

"I'M TRYING TO! DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CAN?!"

Meanwhile, the mutants had started to dogpile Fex and the Zoltan, crushing them under many kilos of dead weight and shrugging off the plasma pot-shots Tiera fired from across the room. The more the mutants sagged down, the harder it was for Fex to move; if the sheer mass didn't flat out crush him, the bodily heat and lack of air would kill him anyway. Both his arms were pinned down, rendering him unable to retaliate in any way that would actually cause any damage to the mutants. While Fex flailed his legs about uselessly, the Zoltan had managed to claw her way out, her semi-incorporealness helping slightly, and was now clinging to Tiera's jumpsuit leggings, staring fearfully at the mass of writhing bodies as if it were the pure essence of terror.

Suddenly, the airlock door burst open and a barrage of eight perfectly aimed shots connected one by one with the shapeless faces of the mutants. They simultaneously launched themselves off Fex, scrabbling and pawing at their ruined faces, screaming and screeching as what remained of their former facial features melted and charred from the intense heat of burning plasma. Tiera seized the opportunity and quickly escorted the Zoltan out of the fray, heading for the Medbay. Avery gave the shaken pair a curt nod as they passed by, readying his weapons for another few shots. As he had predicted, the mutants picked themselves up, despite the grievous damage they had taken; enraged and blind, they rammed around the airlock aimlessly while Fex and Avery carefully chipped at them from the corners until they were too incapacitated to move any more. After hastily dumping their limp bodies out of the airlock, the Kestrel tore itself away from the station, luckily only suffering some rather unsightly scratches and dents.

"Ah, nothing a little paintjob can't fix!"

After the mutant debacle, the Kestrel's crew prepared to clear the Zoltan researcher as a crew member. Having taken a hearty dose of heavy duty sedatives and a counselling session from the Medbay's AI, she was all calmed down and ready to talk.

"First...what is your name, age, gender and occupation? Please use universal standard units. Oh, and I'm Avery, this is Tiera and this is Fex."

"I'm Kate, technically...umm...211 orbits, female, scientific researcher for the Zoltan-Human Coalition of Biological Advancement."

"211? As in standard planetary orbits?"

"We Zoltans are known for longevity, human. After all, pure solar energy may not be very hardy, but it can hold its shape for a rather long time if it is undisturbed. I'm actually very young for a Zoltan with an occupation such as this; by human standards, maybe too young." For the first time since she had been rescued, Kate smiled gently, with a slight hint of embarrassment. Zoltans were also well known for their pacifism and demure, humble demeanour. For the most part.

"Could you give us a rough estimate of your 'human' age? We don't want to be taking a minor under our wing, so to speak, much less a non-human; don't get me wrong, it's just that it may severely damage the diplomatic bonds between our governments if you were to be harmed or...you know. You see, our mission is very-"

"Very dangerous, I know. You must have some experience, at least, if you managed to pull me out of that last mess. I hope I didn't panic too much, it must have been a great bother to you."

"You were just acting on instinct, it's fine!"

"Nobody asked you, Fex. Go ahead, Av."

"But...okay."

"It's alright, let your friend say what he wants. Fex, wasn't it? Also, I'm probably considered to be somewhere between twenty to twenty-five orbits, if I were human. Not a minor, but some of my colleagues used to say that I acted much like one."

"In that case, as time is of the essence, would you like to join our crew?"

"Now that my workplace is mostly destroyed, I guess there is nothing left to do. I will join you; Avery, Fex and Tiera, in saving the Federation. What role may I play in aiding your cause?"

"You know, having extra crew to go around is quite helpful. Where do you want to be stationed?"

"My opinion? Oh, well...you should first see this..."

Kate stood up and walked over to the Medbay's power panels, and shut off the power. The usually bright room darkened until only the faint glimmer of Kate's natural light remained. The constantly humming and chirping medical instruments stopped abruptly. The AI bid the crew good day and flickered off. The room was dark and silent as the crew watched the glowing Zoltan fiddle with the wires and cords. After some tinkering, she turned back to the crew, with a handful of different wires in each hand.

"It is done. Watch."

Kate clutched the wires tightly and closed her eyes, concentrating on something. Slowly, the Medbay's lights began to flicker and light up, brightening the room once more. The humming of the machines resumed and the AI flickered back on to bid them good day yet again. The Kestrel's astounded crew looked back to their newest crew member, who crackled and sparked with her energy output. Again, Kate smiled warmly.

"My speciality-No, our race's specialty; power transfer. Do not worry, it does no harm to me, although I'm afraid I can only produce so much safe voltage as to keep the system just barely alive."

Awestruck, nobody said anything. Being stuck on a backwater outpost really gives one tunnel vision of the universe; the marines had almost forgotten that Zoltans could power systems with their bodily energy.

"I...Wow! Welcome to the Kestrel, Kate!"


End file.
